“Why, Tecumseh, in the Shawanee tongue, means ‘tiger crouching for his prey.’”
“Look, Earth,” said Rolfe, pointing to the fire, “what are those Indians at?—making baskets?”
“No,” said Earth, “they are twisting those twigs in order to make small hoops to dry their scalps upon. Do you not see between that fellow's legs something that looks like small hoe-cakes? Well, they are scalps stretched upon a hoop and placed there to dry.”
“Tell me, does the maiden see them?” inquired Rolfe.
“No, I think not,” said Earth, “see, she lies covered up, and, I hope, is asleep.”
Much desultory conversation occurred, which whiled away the time till day began to dawn. The hunters were now getting drowsy, and yet the Indians showed no disposition to move. But when the eastern sky began to grow red, and the sun rose up, the Indian camp was in motion, and soon after the red men with their captive were treading their way across a prairie, boundless in extent, and beautiful as the imagination can conceive.
For the hunters to follow on, was now a perilous undertaking. The country was so open, that they could not keep near enough to watch the movements of the Indians, without detection; and the only plan was, to allow them to get out of sight, and to follow on to their trail, hoping for some fortuitous occurrence.
To this plan Earthquake was opposed, and he urged the great risk that must be run without the probability of doing any good. But Rolfe had become so much interested in the fate of the captive, that he begged his companion to continue the pursuit, if only for that day; and if no opportunity should offer for assisting her, that he would then return.
“Were we in the forest,” said Earth, “I would willingly follow for a week, but in an open prairie there is risk and no benefit; however, since you so much desire it, follow on.”
“Earth, you talk of risk; you know war is not declared, and that the Indians still profess peace. Now suppose we show ourselves and demand the maiden, they will perhaps surrender her.”